Fault Lines
by Marianna Morgan
Summary: Season 8 – "Where's Sam?" Dean asked, feeling his heart hammer in his chest as adrenaline began to flood his system; his body preparing to fight while his mind buzzed with potential reasons for why a vampire he trusted and a demon he hated would be standing together in nonverbal solidarity.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary**: Season 8 – "Where's Sam?" Dean asked, feeling his heart hammer in his chest as adrenaline began to flood his system; his body preparing to fight while his mind buzzed with potential reasons for why a vampire he _trusted_ and a demon he _hated_ would be standing together in nonverbal solidarity.

**Disclaimer**: Not mine.

**Warnings**: Spoilers for season 8 (with actual dialogue from 8x01) and usual language

**A/N**: I know a lot of fans are frustrated by the new season and the seemingly uncharacteristic dynamics between Sam and Dean. And I must admit that it is certainly disheartening to watch, especially with no explanations to answer all of our questions. But I love the brothers (BOTH of them) too much to just give up. So instead of walking away as I know a lot of fans have chosen to do, I've chosen to do what I usually do – reject the SPN writers' reality and replace it with my own. So, whether you love it or hate it, here we go...

* * *

_It was not your fault but mine...I really fucked it up this time. Didn't I, my dear? ~ Mumford & Sons_

* * *

Out of all the things Dean was expecting when he walked into the dimly lit warehouse, this certainly wasn't on the list of possibilities.

And yet, there he stood.

There they _both_ stood – side-by-side with their body language relaxed and casual while they unintentionally mirrored each other.

Both standing with their feet apart and their hands tucked inside their coat pockets; both assuming a similar stance as people who are familiar with one another often do without realizing.

That detail alone spoke volumes even before either of them said a word, and Dean felt his stomach twist as realization began to dawn.

Because _they knew each other_ – there was no doubt about it now that he saw them together – and Dean inwardly kicked himself for ignoring Sam's warnings over the past few weeks; for silencing his own instinct and allowing himself to drop his guard; for foolishly believing a bond forged in the depths of Purgatory could somehow trump the default settings of hunter and hunted once they were back on earth.

But that didn't seem to be the case.

In fact, if anything, it seemed the proverbial tables had been turned – the hunted manipulatively hunting the hunter...and in plain sight, no less.

"Like Ruby..." Sam had heatedly pointed out as the brothers had yelled at each other a few nights ago in their motel room over the subject of Dean's new best friend.

And although Dean had vehemently denied it then – had defended Benny based on what they had experienced together in Purgatory – he was more inclined to agree with that comparison now.

Because Benny clearly wasn't under duress; wasn't being made to go along with whatever plan Crowley had developed that had led Dean to the warehouse in the middle of the night.

Dean had been with Benny long enough to read him, and from the characteristics he saw now, he knew that Benny was fine; was confident, comfortable, content.

Which meant Benny was _in_ on this – whatever _this_ turned out to be – and was not merely a helpless bystander, powerless to stop the plan from moving forward.

Quite the opposite in fact.

Because from the quietly satisfied expression on Benny's face, Dean knew his vampire friend had helped orchestrate the entire plan, most likely from the first time they had met in Purgatory until now.

"I got something you need...a way out," Benny had told him; had wasted no time in drawing Dean in.

And although the possibility had attracted Dean's attention, it had still seemed too good to be true.

After all, monsters lied.

"Prove it," Dean had responded; had known better – at least back then – than to trust a vampire.

"Nah," Benny had replied with the same casual tone of a crossroads demon; had known even then that he held the upper hand; had known desperate humans did desperate things and had not felt the least bit worried that Dean wouldn't take the bait. "You're either in or you're out."

It had been the same black and white outlook John Winchester had always lived by, had raised his sons by.

_You're either in or you're out._

And although the ultimatum had been familiar, Dean had narrowed his eyes; his heightened senses detecting the scent of bullshit swirling in the air as he and Benny had walked a tight circle, continuing to size each other up.

"So you just want to guide me out of Purgatory out of the goodness of your undead heart?"

Benny had smirked at Dean's suspicious sarcasm. "More or less."

Dean's glare had intensified, hating the dodge of a vague answer. "What's in it for you?"

Because he had known better than to expect to get something for nothing.

"I'm hoppin' a ride," Benny had readily confessed; had used such quick honesty to further gain Dean's trust.

But Dean still had not been convinced. "How do I know this isn't a setup?"

It had been his first instinct to suspect such a scenario...and as usual, his instinct had been right.

If only he had listened to himself.

Because here Benny stood with Crowley in what was clearly a setup.

"How do I know I ain't gonna end up like your friend over there?" Dean had further pressed as he and Benny had stood in the middle of Purgatory; had kept his eyes on the vampire as he had waved his self-made weapon toward the headless corpse sprawled on the ground.

Benny had nodded his agreement as he had glanced in the same direction at the monster he had just beheaded. "He _was_ my friend," he had confirmed, still using his honesty to draw Dean closer; holding his hands out to his side as a nonverbal indication that he had nothing to hide and meant Dean no harm. "Now you are."

Which had been proof of just how quickly Benny switched sides; how easily his allegiance could change.

Because for Benny, the length of friendship and the depth of loyalty were both entirely dependent on how beneficial they proved to be for him. He would gladly betray trust if it meant furthering his own agenda.

Not that any of Benny's previous friends could testify about the vampire's tendency to deceive and mislead since all of them were dead.

There had been a beat of silence as hunter and vampire had stared at each other in Purgatory's forest.

"First rule of Purgatory, kid – you can't trust nobody," Benny had confided as if Dean had just arrived and hadn't already figured that out.

"You just asked me to trust you," Dean had sharply reminded.

"You see?" Benny had responded, had made sure his tone sounded proud of Dean. "You're gettin' it now."

Nobody could be trusted.

And yet by pointing that out – by seeming honest and open about that fact – Benny had earned just a little more of Dean's trust.

The vampire had known it in the way the corner of Dean's mouth had flickered in a brief, appreciative smile.

But Dean wasn't smiling now.

Benny was.

Dean shook his head – further disgusted with himself, with the situation, with the opportunities for manipulation he had allowed to persist – and narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he continued to approach Benny and Crowley.

Without warning, the door suddenly closed behind him – the sound echoing in the large expanse of the empty warehouse – and Dean halted mid-stride, not needing to look to know that a lesser demon had moved to block the exit.

That was always a good sign.

Dean sighed, feeling his heart hammer in his chest as adrenaline began to flood his system; his body preparing to fight while his mind buzzed with potential reasons for why a vampire he _trusted_ and a demon he _hated_ would be standing together in nonverbal solidarity.

Both watched him with the same vaguely amused smirk, and Dean felt the heat of anger begin to mix with the adrenaline already pulsing through his veins.

Because Dean Winchester was nobody's sucker...and yet it seemed in this situation, that's exactly what he was – a seasoned, lethal hunter who had always prided himself on his instincts but had somehow been played like a proverbial fiddle by two supernatural dicks.

What the fuck?

Dean clenched his jaw as fresh rage surged through his system.

The vampire stared knowingly at Dean as he listened to the rush of the hunter's blood; always able to hear it and even smell it, which was why it was so easy to find Dean and to keep track of him in Purgatory...and topside.

Dean shifted under Benny's gaze, arching an eyebrow as he suddenly realized why the vampire was looking at him like that; had always looked at him like that.

It wasn't a nonverbal expression of friendly affection shared by two beings who had experienced Purgatory together and had lived to tell about it.

No.

It was because Benny could hear his blood; could tell how Dean felt, could learn everything he needed to know, could maintain a connection just by that alone.

After all, Dean had been a vampire once, too, and he remembered what it was like; the loud, maddening whoosh of others' blood all around him communicating things they would never say aloud.

Benny's smile broadened. "Blood brothers, right?" he asked.

And Dean felt sick at the description; at finally understanding what Benny had meant each time he had referred to them as such.

There was a beat of silence.

"What is this?" Dean asked; his tone sharp as he stared straight at Benny and wished he had brought more than just his gun tucked in the waist of his jeans and his knife hidden in his boot. "I thought we were friends. But now you're hooking up with this dick?"

Crowley arched an eyebrow at Dean's description of him but said nothing; glancing instead at Benny to allow the vampire to break the news.

"We _were_ friends," Benny allowed in that same tone as he had used in Purgatory when Dean had asked him about the monster he had killed. "Now _we_ are," he needlessly informed, tilting his head to indicate Crowley.

Dean shook his head, refusing to believe what didn't make sense to him. Because after everything he and Benny had been through, _this_ was how the vampire repaid him?

"Why?" Dean asked simply, wanting to know the reason behind their alliance.

There was silence.

"Why?" Dean repeated, his gaze flickering between Benny and Crowley.

"Because," Crowley answered, giving the same dismissal most parents gave their annoying children.

Dean shook his head once more, indicating that reply wasn't enough. "I want to know _why_," he pressed, still staring at Benny. "You owe me that much."

"He owes you nothing," Crowley scoffed before Benny could respond. "You both made a deal that was mutually beneficial at the time but has since become irrelevant." He paused. "You were a means to an end, Dean. And the end is now."

Benny smiled – always impressed with how Crowley handled himself – and then nodded his agreement. "And like I said," he told Dean. "Me and Crowley are friends now."

"Old friends, actually..." Crowley corrected and then smiled when Dean glared at him.

"How?" Dean demanded. "Benny's been in Purgatory."

The statement offered as proof that what was happening wasn't true; that Benny and Crowley couldn't be friends, couldn't be working together because the vampire had been locked in a place the demon couldn't access for at least the past century.

"Yes, I know," Crowley agreed about Benny's previous location, having sent the vampire there on assignment not as long ago as Dean believed; as Dean had been told by Benny.

Dean shook his head, still confused about the relationship between demon and vampire. "So – "

" – so we chatted the last time I was down there," Crowley interrupted and shrugged as though it was no big deal; as though he routinely visited the depths of Purgatory to call on old friends.

Dean arched an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't know how to open Purgatory. I thought that's why we went through all that crap with Raphael and Cas and – "

" – and I thought you would know better by now than to believe anything I told you," Crowley commented – his tone both amused and superior – and then shook his head at the stupid hunter standing in front of him.

"What?" Dean growled, fresh anger surging through him as he thought of how everything they had done two years ago – and everything that had happened, everything they had lost in the aftermath – had been for nothing.

"My business is global," Crowley informed like the proud capitalist he was; collecting souls like businessmen collected stock shares. "I have offices all over the world...and under it."

Dean shook his head, still confused and pissed. "Then why collect the Alphas? Why fight against Raphael? Why make such a big deal about opening Purgatory if you already knew how?"

Crowley smirked. "I had my reasons."

"_Why?_" Dean growled.

Crowley snorted at the demand for an answer. "A master doesn't explain himself to his dog," he replied, his accent as gratingly arrogant as ever. "And I'm not explaining myself to you. Not about my access to Purgatory and not about my arrangements with Elijah Benjamin."

Dean frowned, glancing at Benny as Crowley did. "Elijah Benjamin," he repeated, having never heard Benny's full name before now.

Crowley nodded. "Or Eli, as I've always called him." He paused, glancing again at Dean knowingly. "Of course, he couldn't introduce himself to you as Eli because you might have remembered him from when he used to be with Lenore's nest several years back." He glanced at Benny. "I assured him you weren't smart enough to make the connection, but he insisted. So...Benny it is."

Benny nodded, smirking at Dean as the hunter heatedly stared at him. "You didn't know, did you?"

Dean said nothing.

Benny nodded again. "Yeah, I didn't think you did," he agreed. "But Sam..." He shook his head, remembering the brief flash of recognition in Sam's eyes when they had met several weeks ago. "I think your brother might suspect that he's seen me before. Which I guess would make sense since we had a more personal encounter back when I was running with Lenore."

Benny smiled at the memory of forcibly abducting Sam from that motel room several years ago, and then felt the expression slip as he was reminded about taking the younger Winchester back unharmed per Lenore's orders.

Such a waste.

"So this whole time?" Dean finally asked, a hard edge in his voice; pissed beyond words that he had been played so fucking well. "You've been working for Crowley since back then?"

"Not for..._with_," Benny corrected. "And it's complicated," he added with a shrug.

Crowley chuckled at Benny's description of their friendship. "I remember that first time we met. You were still working for the Merchant Marines and we – "

" – Merchant Marines?" Dean interrupted, his gaze flickering between Crowley and Benny.

Benny nodded.

"Oh, come on," Crowley grumbled at what he thought was obvious. "The coat, the cap..." He waved vaguely at Benny standing beside him. "It's like somebody from the wardrobe department put him in costume. And you're just now realizing?"

Dean didn't respond.

Crowley sighed and shook his head in annoyance before glancing back at Benny.

The vampire ghosted a smile; thinking, not for the first time, how his job then as a Merchant Marine and now as a partner with Crowley didn't much differ – both requiring him to move cargo between nations...whether it be between actual continents or from the underworld to the topside.

Either way, he loved his job.

There was a beat of silence.

Dean clenched his jaw, curling his hands into fists as they hung by his side.

Because the more he thought about this entire situation, the more pissed he got.

Crowley chuckled again at Dean's response, at the hunter's barely controlled rage. "Down, boy..." he reprimanded, as if Dean was truly his dog. "I didn't call you here to fight."

Dean arched an eyebrow. "You didn't call me at all," he returned and shifted his attention to Benny still standing beside Crowley. "You called..." he stated coldly as he stared at the vampire, remembering how Benny's voice had sounded breathless and in pain as it had traveled over the phone line half an hour ago; how Benny had claimed he was in trouble and needed Dean's help.

And just like that, Dean had dropped everything – including Sam – to rush to Benny's aid...but instead had willingly walked into a trap.

Dean swallowed, having always hated the sour taste of humiliation.

"I can see how you would think that since it did sound like his voice," Crowley allowed. "But Benny was on...well...we'll call it an errand."

Vampire and demon exchanged glances and quiet chuckles at the vague explanation.

"So, _I _called you," Crowley finished. "And you came a runnin'. Just like Benny said you would..." He glanced at the vampire and then back at Dean. "Very sweet."

Dean ignored the verbal jab and arched an eyebrow as his attention flickered to the demon standing beside Benny. "You?"

Because he knew what he had heard over the phone...and it had been _Benny's_ voice, not Crowley's.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Don't tell me you're just now realizing the voice altering abilities of demons?"

Dean blinked.

Crowley sighed. "You really are a dumbass," he commented and then shook his head pityingly. "I can sound like anybody," he informed, showing off the ability by once again perfectly matching Benny's accent. "It's really quite useful," he added, sounding exactly like Sam. "Helps speed things along..."

Dean glared, wanting to punch Crowley in the throat for daring to imitate his brother.

Speaking of...

"Where's Sam?" Dean demanded, suddenly fearing for the kid's safety; knowing Sam had been alone an entire year and could certainly handle himself back at the motel if there was trouble...but also feeling the familiar worried paranoia of a big brother.

A feeling he hadn't felt in too long.

"Where is he?" Dean repeated, taking a step forward; unable to shake the feeling that they had done something to Sam...or were planning to.

"Relax, brother..." Benny soothed, staring at Dean from beneath the brim of his cap.

"I'm not your brother," Dean sharply corrected and glared to further make his point.

Benny snorted at the admonishment. "It's like that, huh? You save a guy's life, you show him the road home, and then he just cuts you off."

"I should've cut you off a long time ago," Dean replied, knowing Benny realized he was referring to more than just cutting ties as friends.

Benny chuckled at the threat, rubbing his neck and appreciating the fact his head was still attached...at least for now. "How quickly things change..."

Dean nodded his agreement and held his glare. "I trusted you."

The statement an accusation.

Benny shrugged. "Your choice, chief. You're either in or you're out...and you chose in."

Dean swallowed; hating having his mistake, his error in judgment thrown in his face. Especially since he knew he had chosen to be _in_ with Benny only so he could get _out_ of Purgatory...but had, for whatever reason, struggled with severing ties with the vampire once they were both topside.

It had bothered Dean more than he would admit.

But Sam's detachment and the distance he felt with his brother since he had been back had only made it easier to continue relying on Benny for the camaraderie he craved.

Maybe if Sam had looked for him while he was gone; maybe if Sam had reacted differently to Dean being back, Dean would have found it easier to cut ties with a vampire he knew at his core was bad news.

But days had turned into weeks.

Awkward silence between the brothers had grown into quiet burning resentment.

And Dean had almost found himself missing the good ol' days with Benny back in Purgatory; where things were purely black or white; where only one decision seemed to matter...whether you were in or out.

And though Dean had chosen in, he now realized what he had known all along – that it was past time to get out.

Because the one rule in Purgatory was the same rule on earth – you didn't trust anybody...except family.

And whether or not Sam had looked for him; whether or not Sam was distant and detached didn't matter. Because Sam was still family – his _only_ family – and it was past time that Dean was reminded of that.

After all, this wasn't the first time his and Sam's relationship had been strained. And they would eventually find their way back to each other...as long as something else wasn't constantly standing between them – like Dean's uncharacteristic loyalty to a vampire.

But that was over now.

And while Dean didn't regret the relationship that had gotten him out of Purgatory, he did regret allowing it to continue. He regretted allowing it to come between him and Sam. He regretted allowing himself to be put in this current position – trapped alone with a demon and a vampire. And he regretted not listening to his instincts to chop off Benny's head the instant the vampire had regained his body and had first shown his rows of teeth.

Dean sighed, refocusing on Benny and Crowley as they stood across from him. "Where's Sam?" he asked again, having no reason to suspect that the kid wasn't back at the motel where he had left him...but still concerned that his brother was the other shoe they were holding and waiting to drop.

"Don't know. Don't care," Crowley lied about Sam's location – because he _always_ knew where either Winchester brother was – but kept his tone and expression flat as if the topic was boring him. "I didn't call you here to discuss your precious baby moose."

Dean scowled at Crowley's description of his brother; knowing the demon was lying because sooner or later it always came back around to Sam.

Because even after everything, that floppy-haired kid was still Dean's weak spot.

And the supernatural knew it, too.

"Fine," Dean allowed evenly. "Why _did _you call me here?"

"For a meet and greet," Crowley responded as though he was the social director. "I think it's past time for you to meet a special someone."

Dean arched an eyebrow. "Meaning...?"

"My partner in crime," Crowley replied.

Dean glanced at Benny.

Crowley chuckled. "My _other_ partner in crime," he amended. "It takes a village these days..." he mused and then nodded at the vampire standing beside him.

Benny returned the nod at the nonverbal signal before letting loose a remarkably loud, piercing whistle; his lips pulled back tight to make the sound.

The same sound Dean had often listened for in Purgatory when they were hunting together; their way of communicating location or direction to each other across distance.

Benny glanced at Dean as they waited, knowing he remembered, and then chuckled at the expression on the hunter's face. "Sound familiar, brother?"

Dean clenched his jaw – suddenly _hating_ when Benny called him that – and directed his attention toward one of the warehouse's side doors as a woman was suddenly pushed into the room and roughly manhandled to stand at his side.

* * *

_**TBC**_


	2. Chapter 2

The woman glanced at Dean as her demon escort crossed back to the warehouse door.

Her face pale; her brown hair a tangled, limp mess that brushed her shoulders; her eyes wide and scared.

Dean knew by the way her gaze nervously flickered to Benny and Crowley that she had been the errand Crowley had spoken of earlier; she had been what Benny had gone to retrieve and deliver to the warehouse at Crowley's command.

Which meant what?

How did she figure into this?

Because Dean had never seen her in his life and there was no recognition in her eyes as she looked at him, either.

But they were both here now and the woman was obviously terrified of what was to come.

"It's okay," Dean told her; unable to stop himself because that had always been part of his job – to comfort victims of the supernatural...and then to rescue them.

The woman swallowed but didn't verbally respond; instead allowing her eyes to call Dean a liar.

Because she knew nothing was okay...and never would be again.

You were either in or you were out, and she had made her choice.

Now it was time to face the consequences.

Dean stared at the woman beside him before directing his attention back to Crowley.

"Pretty little thing, isn't she?" the demon asked, his gaze holding the woman's.

Dean glared. "Let her go. She has nothing to do with this."

"Wrong," Crowley corrected, glancing at Dean. "She's right in the thick of this." He glanced back at her. "Aren't you, sweetheart?"

Benny chuckled.

Dean arched an eyebrow. "How?"

"Well, let's see. Should I tell him...or should you?" Crowley asked her, clearly enjoying this.

The woman tilted her head slightly, suddenly looking more confused than scared; like she didn't understand why she had to tell the man beside her anything; didn't understand why it was any of his business; didn't understand why this stranger was even here.

There was a beat of silence.

Crowley sighed. "I'm waiting."

The woman swallowed.

Crowley scowled at her continued stalling. "Tell him."

The woman glanced at Dean and then back at the demon. "Crowley..._please_."

Dean blinked in surprise at the woman calling Crowley by name because most civilians wouldn't have that information.

Which meant...what?

Crowley chuckled, noticing Dean's reaction. "I'm on a first name basis with all of my dealmakers," he informed, as though he was sharing a business tip with a colleague. "I find it helps build rapport."

Benny smiled his agreement, having found the same technique worked in making his own deals with humans.

Dean narrowed his eyes, turning his attention back to the woman; his earlier concern morphing into something else. "That true? Did you make a deal with him?"

The woman didn't respond, glancing instead at Crowley.

"Amelia..." Crowley began; his tone that of a patient parent schooling a slow child.

"Amelia..." Dean echoed curiously, cutting his eyes at the woman standing beside him; knowing it was too much of a coincidence that she shared the same name as the girl Sam had been with while he had been in Purgatory.

Which probably meant...

"It's rude to ignore a directly asked question," Crowley informed Amelia and then paused. "So, be a good little wench and tell Sam's brother – "

" – Sam's brother?" Amelia repeated, her attention snapping to Dean. "You're Sam's brother? You're Dean?"

Dean blinked at the unexpected questions and at the instant change in the woman's manner; knowing by how alert and eager she suddenly seemed about his kid brother that she was _the_ Amelia. "You know Sam?"

Amelia nodded and smiled at the mention of Sam's name. "Yes," she confirmed. "He's a good guy," she added quietly; the words barely spoken before tears welled in her eyes. "I'm sorry."

Dean's stomach twisted at the apology. "For what?"

Amelia didn't answer; instead glancing back at Benny and Crowley.

"Don't look at us," Crowley advised her. "You were at the crossroads. You know the terms of your contract."

"What contract?" Dean demanded. "What did you do to Sam?"

"Nothing," Amelia assured and shook her head. "I promise. I didn't hurt him. I just..." She paused, searching for the right words to describe her role in this mess. "I just...kept an eye on him."

Dean snorted at the sugar-coated truth, having been a hunter long enough to recognize a demon's spy when he saw one. "I guess that was pretty easy to do since Sam was living at your house," he growled and then shook his head disgustedly. "I guess it was your job to report back to Crowley whatever Sam did?"

"Sometimes," Amelia admitted and then ducked her head. "I'm sorry."

Dean snorted again. "Save it," he told her and then glanced back at Crowley.

Crowley smiled.

Dean glared. "Why is she here?"

"Because I thought you'd like to meet the girl your brother's been shacking up with for almost a year," Crowley answered as though he was only thinking of what Dean would want when he arranged this meeting. "And because her deal is due," he added. "So before she becomes puppy chow, I thought – "

" – no!" Amelia abruptly interrupted at the unexpected news and shook her head frantically. "No! I still have eight years!"

"You _did_ have eight years," Crowley corrected coldly. "But then you welched on our deal, so..."

Crowley allowed his voice to fade and shrugged as if his hands were tied; as if he was just following someone else's orders; as if he wasn't the one calling in her deal earlier than expected because she had allowed Sam to escape during her watch.

"I didn't welch," Amelia insisted. "I held my end of the deal. I watched Sam. I made sure he didn't do anything or go anywhere. It's not my fault he left in the middle of the night."

"Then whose fault is it?" Crowley sharply countered.

Amelia didn't respond.

Because she had laid there in the darkness that night as Sam had packed his bags at the foot of the bed and then had left her house without as much as a word or a backward glance.

She had listened him leave...and had gladly let him go.

"Whose fault?" Crowley repeated, staring at Amelia.

She said nothing in her defense.

"Exactly," Crowley asserted. "Yours." He paused. "And a deal's a deal..."

"What deal?" Dean asked, pinning Amelia with a hard stare; because if the deal somehow involved Sam, he deserved to know about it.

"A stupid deal," Amelia replied quietly.

Dean laughed humorlessly. "That goes without saying," he returned. "But if it affected my brother, I still want to know. What deal?"

There was silence.

Amelia swallowed and inhaled a shaky breath. "I was desperate..." she whispered, her story starting the way most crossroads stories did. "Our family business was going under...we were going to lose everything...so..." She sighed. "So, I made a deal," she stated needlessly, omitting the details between realization and sacrifice. "I made a deal to save the business...to save my family..."

Dean nodded, softening a little because he could understand that.

"But _then_..." Crowley prompted, refusing to let her end there.

Amelia cut her eyes at the demon. "But then I..." She swallowed. "I wanted more. I wanted to be the best."

"The best vet? Seriously? You sold your soul for _that?_" Dean asked incredulously, having remembered that tidbit about Amelia's job from what Sam had shared one night over beers.

"It's more lucrative than you know," Crowley assured and nodded when Dean looked at him. "A quite popular request, believe it or not. Saving animals and wallowing in money...what's not to love?"

"It wasn't about that," Amelia snapped defensively.

"Hey. Whatever helps you sleep at night..." Crowley responded dryly. "It's your soul, sweetheart, not mine. Oh, wait..." He paused and smiled. "It _is_ mine."

"Fuck you!" Amelia yelled, lashing out the only way she could.

Crowley chuckled. "Nice thought," he mused, his smile widening as though the idea pleased him. "But enough about me. Back to you..."

Amelia glared at the demon.

"How does Sam figure into this?" Dean asked, not caring about anything else.

Amelia glanced at Dean and then lowered her head, refusing to look at Sam's brother again.

Dean arched an eyebrow at her response before staring directly at Crowley. "Tell me."

Crowley smiled, more than happy to explain. "When humans want extra success...when they want to double-down in the bet against their soul, I put a few additional clauses into their contract. If you want more, you give more. It's only fair. And with Amelia, she agreed to be at my service for as long as I required."

"Meaning...?" Dean prompted.

"Meaning she knew to expect Sam. She knew she was supposed to save that stupid dog and then guilt your brother into adopting the mutt and staying put. So when I sent Sam to her on a fucking platter with that bloody mongrel, she was supposed to keep him on a short leash. Not let him slip off in the night," Crowley unexpectedly bitched. "I've got enough shit to keep up with in this world without having to worry about a guy who's had his memory wiped wandering the countryside and fucking up my plans."

Dean blinked at that revelation. "Whoa. Wait a minute. _What?_"

"Fucking hell..." Crowley swore under his breath and shook his head disgustedly, having meant to hold that bombshell about Dean's brother until later.

But Amelia's incompetence had pissed him off and had made his tongue a little looser than usual.

And he couldn't afford for that to happen again.

Which meant it was time for her to leave.

Amelia's eyes widened as Crowley focused on her. "Please..." she begged, knowing what was about to happen. "_Please._"

Crowley stared at her; his expression unreadable as he was unmoved by her desperate pleading.

Amelia swallowed and snapped her attention back to Dean, realizing her time was growing short. "Listen...whatever they tell you...please know that Sam didn't forget you. He _remembered_ you," she assured Dean. "He never talked about anything else from his life before...but he _did_ talk about you."

Dean glanced at Amelia, a strange twinge of hope flaring in his chest. "What did he say?"

Amelia shook her head. "Not much," she replied; her tone apologetic as if she knew how important this tidbit was to the man standing beside her. "He would just sometimes say your name. And when I asked him who he was talking about, he would say his brother. But then if I asked him more questions, he would just stare at me like he didn't know."

"Because he _didn't _know," Crowley confirmed smugly. "That's what a memory wipe does." He pretended to check his watch. "And we're all out of time. Thank you for playing _Let's Make A Deal..._"

Amelia shook her head, reaching out to the demon who held her soul. "No! Please!"

"Tell it to the dogs, sister..." Crowley quipped as he crisply snapped his fingers.

And just like that, Amelia disappeared.

Dean blinked at her sudden departure and gave a quick visual scan of the warehouse's dimly lit interior. "Where did she go?"

"Over the rainbow," Crowley replied like the smartass he was.

Dean scowled at the response but nodded, taking that explanation for what it was – indication that Amelia's time was quite literally up...and that she was quite literally gone.

"It's probably best you don't tell Sam about this part," Crowley advised, like he gave a rat's ass if the news about Amelia's supernatural death upset Dean's brother.

Dean cut his eyes at Crowley; not sorry for what had happened to Amelia – especially since she had brought the consequences on herself and had potentially harmed Sam in the process – and not planning to mention her ever again to his brother.

As far as Sam knew, Amelia was already gone from his life; was left behind when he had left her house and was happily, safely living without him.

And Dean would allow his brother to keep believing that...at least for now.

Because they had bigger issues.

Dean sighed, glancing at Benny before directing his attention back to Crowley. "You wiped Sam's memory?" he asked, feeling anger once again begin to swell in his chest. "I thought only angels could – "

" – please," Crowley scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Anything they can do, we can do better. Including memory wipes."

"Well..." Benny countered thoughtfully. "It wasn't a _complete_ wipe."

Dean cut his eyes at Benny, wondering how the hell the vampire would know what Crowley had done to his brother unless every detail of their plan had been discussed prior to its beginning.

Which would imply that Benny had been behind the scenes during the whole Leviathan fiasco – and which would also imply this alliance between the vampire and Crowley had been in place for years...just as they had said.

Old friends, indeed.

Benny smirked at Dean as the hunter was clearly working things out in his mind. "Ah, see? You're gettin' it now..." he praised as he had done in Purgatory when they had first met.

Dean glared but didn't give Benny the satisfaction of a response.

Benny chuckled.

Dean refocused on Crowley. "What did you do to Sam?"

"I did him a favor," Crowley answered smugly. "I gave him something he's never had before."

Dean tilted his head at the familiar phrase.

_I've found something I've never had before._

Sam said that a lot these days, and Dean knew it wasn't a coincidence.

Crowley smiled. "That's right. It was the last thing I said to him before I wiped his memory," he told Dean, knowing the older brother had already realized the connection.

Dean shook his head. "Why do that?"

"Because your brother is a pain in my ass," Crowley informed dryly.

Dean arched an eyebrow at the demon's description of his brother; because only _he_ was allowed to call Sam that...not Crowley.

There was silence.

"How?" Dean asked about Crowley's apparent trouble with Sam. "If Sam wasn't looking for me...if he was out of hunting, then how – "

Dean's question was interrupted by Crowley's laughter.

"You believe that, do you?" the demon asked, clearly amused.

"That's what Sam said," Dean replied; his tone tinged with the bitterness that surfaced every time he thought about his brother not even bothering to search for him.

"Sam's a liar," Crowley declared with the honesty of a demon who would know. "He did search for you. In fact, being the pain in the ass overachiever he is, he searched a little too well. Which is where I come in..."

Dean tilted his head. "What?"

Crowley sighed in annoyance at having to explain further. "After the lab...after you and Cas went down under, Sam was causing quite a stir up here trying to find you."

Dean quirked a smile at the information, feeling strangely relieved and happy to hear it.

Because _that_ was the Sam he knew; _that_ was the stubborn little brother he loved; _that_ was the kid he had raised to never give up no matter what...especially when it came to family.

"So..." Dean prompted, knowing there was more.

Crowley shrugged. "So the tenacious little shit was getting too close to the truth," he replied sharply. "He had not only realized you were in Purgatory but had almost found a way to get you out mere days after I sent your ass down there."

"And I guess that would've fucked up your plans..." Dean mused.

"It would've fucked them royally," Crowley agreed and glanced at Benny still standing beside him.

Dean glanced at Benny as well. "Guess you needed time to find me..."

"No," Benny corrected and shook his head. "I always knew where you were. I was just waiting on timing."

Dean snorted at the explanation; knowing from experience that timing was indeed crucial on a hunt...and that's what he had been to Benny – a hunt.

There was silence.

"You see..." Crowley began. "You were getting soft," he told Dean. "The badass you once were had shriveled to a whiney, angsty bitch."

Dean arched an eyebrow.

"But I knew Purgatory would fix that," Crowley explained, indirectly praising his own genius idea. "That was your boot camp...that was the best, quickest way I knew to get you back in shape, both mentally and physically." He paused, staring at Dean. "You're welcome."

Dean scowled. "Fuck you," he snapped.

Because he sure as hell wasn't thanking Crowley for anything...least of all his year in Purgatory, regardless of how much the demon thought he had needed it.

Crowley chuckled. "See?" he asked as if Dean's response was some kind of proof. "I knew after you came back from there – especially after being under Benny's training – you would be the fucked up, unemotional killing machine I needed."

Dean said nothing but swallowed against the knot of emotions that rose in his throat, almost choking on the rage that threatened to erupt.

"But your brother..." Crowley continued and shook his head at the problem that was Sam Winchester. "I couldn't have him breaking you out of Purgatory before you were ready. I needed you just the way you are, Dean." He paused. "And I needed you to think Sam had been living the good life while you were gone. I needed that resentment. It fuels the fire within...makes you more reckless...more likely to stick with those who stuck with you."

"Like me..." Benny added and smiled when Dean cut his eyes at him. "Right, brother?"

"Shut up," Dean growled and then glanced back at Crowley. "So...what?" he asked, venom in his tone. "You cornered Sam and wiped his slate clean?"

"Something like that," Crowley agreed. "We couldn't have him poking his pointy little nose where it didn't belong, now could we? I needed him out of hunting and waiting on the sidelines until I was ready to put him back in the game."

"So you sent him to Amelia?" Dean pressed.

"Not at first," Crowley countered. "First I cut him off from all connections...like taking those cellphones. But I let him keep that piece of shit car you love so much..."

Crowley paused once more as if he expected bonus points for that allowance.

Dean didn't give any.

Crowley sighed. "Ungrateful bastard."

Dean ignored the comment. "Then...?" he prompted, wanting to know more about what the demon had done to Sam.

Crowley shrugged. "I just let him wander. It was classic dissociative fugue."

Dean arched a questioning eyebrow. "Classic _what?_"

"Dissociative fugue..." Crowley repeated, as if doing so would somehow make Dean understand the term better.

It didn't.

Crowley sighed harshly. "Dissociative fugue is a rare psychiatric disorder characterized by reversible amnesia for personal identity," he recited. "It usually involves unplanned travel or wandering and is sometimes accompanied by the establishment of a new identity. Fugues are usually precipitated by a stressful episode and upon recovery there may be amnesia for the original stressor." He paused, staring at Dean. "There. Happy?"

Dean glared.

"Which means your brother couldn't look for you because he didn't really know who you were or what had happened to you," Benny elaborated. "Hell, he barely even knew who _he_ was or what had happened to him."

"Exactly," Crowley agreed. "Which is why fugues are my favorite type of memory wipe."

Benny nodded.

"The person has nothing to guide him, so he wanders in search of a new identity but often defaults to his original settings," Crowley continued to muse, smiling as though he was discussing poetry. "To forget is a beautiful thing. Wouldn't you agree?"

Dean didn't respond to the demon's loaded question; his mind still echoing the term "original settings" – like not wanting to hunt and preferring normal.

"I guess something happened to me this year, too..." Sam had told Dean in Rufus's cabin; the vague statement having matched his confused, slightly vacant expression.

And it seemed the kid had been right.

Something _had_ happened...only Sam couldn't fully remember because of what Crowley had done.

Dean swallowed, feeling sick for how many times he had caustically berated Sam for not looking for him; for getting out of hunting; for settling into a normal, safe life while others died and he rotted in Purgatory.

While truthfully, Sam had been held hostage; had been stripped of his later memories and had been lost in a world he didn't recognize; had regressed several years in his way of thinking and had unknowingly been delivered to a demon's spy – _Amelia_. And while he had relied on her to help him, she had already been given orders to keep him close and clueless.

Dean shook his head, staring heatedly at Crowley. "So you made him hit that dog?"

Crowley nodded and chuckled. "You should've seen his face. All that blood..." He chuckled again. "It was great."

Dean scowled. "Great?" he repeated. "What could possibly be great about almost killing a dog?"

Crowley shrugged. "Guess you had to be there," he quipped. "But let's just say Sam's reaction far exceeded my expectations, which your brother often does...as evidenced by him unexpectedly snapping out of his fugue state in the middle of the fucking night."

Benny chuckled at Crowley's annoyance. "That's happened before," he reminded about other such instances. "People abruptly returning to their pre-fugue identity and then being distressed at finding themselves in unfamiliar circumstances, so they leave and go back to – "

" – yeah, yeah," Crowley interrupted, further irritated by Benny's long-winded explanation; like the vampire was trying to show off for his hunter friend. "Still pisses me off."

Benny snorted and nodded his agreement.

Because the last thing they had expected was for Sam to begin to remember his identity so suddenly.

After all, Dean's brother had fallen asleep without a clue that night several weeks ago...but had woken with a start to find himself in a strange bed with a strange woman in a strange house.

Sam's hunter instinct – having been dormant for a year – had been revived just as suddenly as it had been sedated; allowing him to escape from Amelia's watch in order to return to the last place he recalled...the cabin where Crowley had first wiped his memory almost a year ago.

And then after Dean saw Sam...and Sam saw Dean...Benny and Crowley's plan had become slightly skewed.

But it was still on track...at least for now.

There was silence.

Dean stared at the demon and vampire standing across from him; realizing for the first time why Sam had been returning to Rufus's cabin that day several weeks ago when they had finally seen each other again...and why Sam had looked startled but not surprised to see him.

Because Sam's memory had just recently returned and he was only vaguely aware that Dean had even been gone.

Dean shook his head as he clenched his jaw; freshly pissed at what Benny and Crowley had done to him and his brother. "I'm gonna fucking kill you."

Crowley arched an eyebrow at the threat. "That would be a neat trick," he mused. "But I don't see that happening." He paused. "What I _do_ see happening is you playing along like a good little soldier."

"I'm not your soldier," Dean sharply replied.

"You're right," Crowley allowed and glanced at Benny still standing beside him. "You're _his_ soldier."

Dean arched an eyebrow and followed Crowley's gaze.

Benny smiled at Dean's simmering anger. "Look at your arm," he told the hunter and watched as Dean hesitated before doing so. "You see that mark?"

Dean nodded, unable to miss it because of its distinct features – what looked like a backwards "E" with a "B" attached – and because he had noticed it before; had kept it hidden from Sam and had worried about why the hell the arm that had briefly housed Benny's soul would be marked with a brand that wouldn't heal.

"That's part of me left in you," Benny explained proudly. "That's our connection. That's why you couldn't get away from me even if you wanted to. I'm _in_ you, brother."

Dean shook his head. "Bullshit."

Benny chuckled. "I think you know it's not."

And Dean did.

He knew what Benny had said was true because he could _feel_ it; had felt it since they had been topside – the vampire having an unexplainable, undeniable hold on him.

And this was why – the tiny red mark burned in the skin of his forearm from where he had stupidly agreed to carry Benny's soul within his own body to the other side.

_Fuck. _

Benny chuckled again. "Cheer up, chief," he encouraged good-naturedly. "Things will get better."

Dean barked a humorless laugh; because things looked pretty fucked up from where he was standing. "How's that?" he asked.

"Because Sam's coming," Crowley announced, like Dean's brother was the guest of honor at a surprise party.

Dean narrowed his eyes at the news, rolling down his sleeve to cover the brand on his arm as if Sam could already see it. "Sam doesn't know where I am," he reminded the demon and vampire. "And if he did, he wouldn't come. He was pretty pissed when I left. And besides...Sam wouldn't walk into a trap. He's smarter than that."

"You're right," Crowley agreed. "But if you called him..."

Dean shook his head, glaring at the demon's suggestion. "No way in hell."

Crowley smiled. "You already did," he informed Dean, perfectly matching the old brother's voice.

Dean blinked, unnerved at hearing his voice come from the demon's mouth. "What?"

"You called him," Crowley repeated, still speaking in a perfect imitation of Dean's voice.

Dean shook his head in confident denial. "Sam would know it wasn't me."

"I don't know..." Crowley countered, switching back to his own voice. "He sounded convinced to me."

Dean shook his head once more, refusing to believe that Sam was headed to the warehouse as they spoke; that his brother was willingly walking into a trap because he thought Dean had called him, because he thought Dean needed him.

Crowley nodded as he watched Dean, clearly pleased with himself and the way his plan was coming together. "Should be anytime now..." he promised and smiled, glancing at Benny as the vampire did the same.

* * *

_**TBC**_


	3. Chapter 3

Dean shook his head as the reality of what was happening sank in – that Crowley had used Dean's voice to lure Sam to the warehouse; that Sam was only coming because of his loyalty to Dean; that if Crowley and Benny had their way, Sam would be dead within minutes of arriving.

The threat of that objective hung in the air; both demon and vampire clearly pleased with themselves and practically buzzing with anticipation of their plan finally being complete.

That Sam would be dead and Dean would be theirs to further manipulate without the annoying hindrance of an overly inquisitive little brother constantly interfering.

As if it would be that easy to kill one Winchester and then control the other.

Dean shook his head again; feeling the heat of anger burn through his system even as his heart hammered in his chest with dread and fear.

Because nothing could happen to Sam.

Out of everything that had changed over the years – and especially over the past year – that mantra had remained the same.

Nothing could happen to Sam...especially not _because_ of Dean.

Yet it seemed both of those conditions were about to be violated, and the resulting threat ignited something long forgotten within Dean – the purely primal instinct to do whatever it took to protect Sam.

It was Dean's default setting...and it felt surprisingly good.

Dean twitched a smile, feeling strangely energized and focused at the reminder of what really mattered in his life – _Sam_ – and clenched his jaw as a fresh wave of determined anger washed over him.

Because the two supernatural dicks standing across from him would not be killing his kid brother – not on his watch – and they would no longer be controlling him like a puppet, either.

Brand or no brand, that was over.

Dean would find a way out of this; out of this warehouse and out of this deal...and he would be taking his brother with him – his _real_ brother.

Dean glanced at his sleeve-covered arm – visualizing Benny's binding mark burned into his skin beneath the fabric – and then directed his attention back to the demon and vampire.

Crowley arched an eyebrow at Dean's intense gaze. "Something on your mind, cowboy?"

Dean ignored the nickname. "This isn't Sam's fight," he sharply pointed out instead; the statement feeling oddly traitorous since any fight that was his was automatically Sam's...and vice versa.

But that detail didn't matter now.

Not when he was arguing for Sam's life.

"You've got me," Dean reminded, vaguely gesturing toward his arm as his gaze flickered between the demon and vampire. "Fine." He shrugged as if it didn't bother him. "Take me," he continued, sounding resigned to that fate. "But leave Sam out of this."

There was a beat of silence.

Crowley and Benny glanced at each other.

There was another beat of silence before Crowley finally spoke. "Good speech," he praised dryly, like an unimpressed critic. "Sparse words but deep emotions. I felt it right here," he told Dean, patting his chest and failing to hide his patronizing smirk.

Benny chuckled.

Dean glared, barely suppressing the urge to release his arsenal of F-bombs and Purgatory-trained justice. "Leave Sam out of this," he repeated, channeling his little brother's patience as he graciously allowed the demon and vampire one last chance to do as they were told.

"We heard you the first time," Crowley remarked distractedly, motioning for the lesser demon across the warehouse to come forward.

Dean glanced over his shoulder at the potential threat approaching from behind and frowned at the weapon the demon was carrying; vaguely wondering where it came from but instantly recognizing a machete when he saw one.

Dean swallowed, his fingers twitching in anticipation as he watched the demon draw closer; sensing the weapon wasn't intended to be used on him but still inwardly preparing for that scenario; knowing he could grab the demon-killing knife from his boot within seconds and then light up one of Hell's minions in even less time.

But as expected, the demon passed by him with hardly a glance.

Dean's frown deepened as the demon crossed to Benny.

"Sir," the demon formally addressed and offered the machete to the vampire, balancing the weapon between his two upturned hands.

Benny nodded but said nothing.

Crowley did the same.

Dean narrowed his eyes as the vampire then removed his coat and cap before accepting the remarkably long knife brought forth in ceremonial fashion; the garments exchanged for the weapon as the demon nodded his respect and then stepped to the side; setting the clothes on an overturned box and awaiting his next order.

There was silence.

But the unspoken threat to Sam, the apparent intention hung in the air.

"I wouldn't worry too much about your brother," Crowley advised Dean, like a therapist dispensing wisdom to his neurotic patient. "Sam will be out of this soon enough," he assured and glanced at Benny.

The vampire nodded his agreement along with his understanding of his role in taking Dean's brother out of the equation before glancing at Dean and smiling.

"What do you think you're gonna do with that?" Dean coldly challenged, watching Benny fondly stroke the blade as if it was an old friend.

Benny's smile widened. "I think you know."

And Dean did.

He knew exactly what Benny intended to do with the machete he currently held; knew without a doubt whose blood the vampire wanted.

But _no fucking way_ was that going to happen.

No fucking way were they going to ambush his brother.

No fucking way was Sam going to bleed out on a dirty warehouse floor.

Not tonight.

Not because of these assholes.

And not because of Dean's lapse in judgment.

Sam was not dying.

_No. Fucking. Way._

Dean shook his head at the implied threat to Sam; feeling his earlier anger return tenfold. "Oh, _hell no..._" he growled, feeling the rush of adrenaline along with the rage of a big brother.

Benny smirked as Dean took a step forward.

But that was as far as Dean got before finding himself abruptly swept off his feet and hurled across the warehouse; his body slamming into the concrete wall and then remaining there, held in place by Crowley's demonic powers.

"Stay," Crowley commanded, once again addressing Dean like a dog. "Good boy."

Dean glared and struggled against the invisible force that held him. "Why?" he demanded, continuing to writhe in place as his feet dangled above the floor. "Why kill Sam now when you've had all year to do it?"

"Well, two reasons..." Crowley began reasonably, as if he had expected that question. "First, it's no fun to kill Sam if you're not around to watch. And second, as long as Sam's alive, you'll never be completely loyal to anything else."

Benny nodded his agreement.

Because even though he had a certain amount of control over Dean through the piece of himself he had left behind in the hunter, Benny could still feel the pull of Dean's loyalty and love for his brother.

Even though Dean had been resentful and pissed at Sam since his return, the younger brother had still been able to attract Dean's focus...and that was especially true now.

Benny could feel the change that had occurred within Dean since Dean's arrival at the warehouse; could feel Dean's reignited purpose as a hunter and as a big brother; could feel Dean's renewed preoccupation with protecting Sam.

And a distracted soldier was a worthless soldier.

...which meant the object of Dean's distraction had to be eliminated.

It wasn't personal.

It was business.

Benny twitched a smile at the rationalizing thought; because maybe it was a _little_ personal...

After all, Sam had always been the one who had gotten away, thanks to Lenore several years back.

But the youngest Winchester would not get away a second time.

Benny would see to that.

The vampire smiled with anticipation as he glanced at Dean, not surprised to see the hunter glaring at him from across the warehouse.

"If you hurt him – "

" – Relax," Benny soothed, interrupting whatever threat Dean was about to growl. "He won't feel a thing. I'll make it quick," he promised. "Kill others as they would kill you. That's what I always say..." the vampire commented, swinging the blade through the air to imitate slicing off Sam's head. "He won't even know what hit him."

Like that was supposed to make it better.

"You sonuvabitch!" Dean spat, continuing to struggle as he remained pinned against the wall by Crowley's powers.

Benny shook his head at Dean's useless efforts to break free. "Relax, brother," he soothed once more.

Dean didn't respond; instead gritting his teeth as he strained against his invisible bonds.

"It's really quite simple," Crowley began as he came to stand in front of Dean. "You're in. Sam's out. And we all..."

The demon suddenly paused, tilting his head as he listened intently.

Because that's when they heard it – the unmistakable sound of a lock being picked; the quick, delicate tinkering echoing through the warehouse and attracting attention toward the backdoor.

Crowley and Benny exchanged glances.

"Well, I wonder who that could be..." Crowley mused as if he didn't have a clue and then chuckled.

Benny snorted his amusement as the doorknob continued to subtly rattle but didn't otherwise respond to Crowley's comment; instead crossing the warehouse to change his position.

Because the vampire wasn't picky; he could kill Sam at the backdoor just as easily as he could at the front.

It didn't matter as long as Sam was dead and Dean was theirs to fully manipulate.

Their plan depended on those two factors.

And the time was now.

Benny smiled, glancing at Dean as he raised his machete; planning to strike as soon as the door opened; intending to keep his promise about Sam never knowing what hit him.

Because Benny knew if he gave Sam a fighting chance, it would be _his_ head rolling across the floor instead of Sam's.

And the vampire hadn't lived this long to die so predictably at the hands of a hunter.

Benny exhaled evenly, shifting his stance while keeping his focus on the door as he waited for Sam to enter.

But Crowley's focus was across the warehouse as he once again motioned for the lesser demon to come forward.

The demon nodded and quickly did as he was silently ordered, approaching Crowley and blinking expectantly as he waited for further instruction.

Crowley said nothing but glanced meaningfully at Dean.

The demon nodded again, indicating that he understood what was expected of him and seamlessly took over Crowley's hold on the hunter.

Dean shifted minutely, feeling the invisible force loosen for a fraction of a second during the switch between demons before tightening again.

The lesser demon smiled threateningly; nonverbally communicating that just because he wasn't as powerful as Crowley in other ways didn't mean his skills in this particular area weren't equally as strong.

"Good for you," Dean snarked at the demon and then cut his eyes at Crowley. "Going somewhere?"

"How observant of you..." Crowley remarked dryly and then more directly answered Dean's question. "Yes. I know how this story ends, so I'm going to cut out early and beat the traffic."

"You mean you're gonna save your ass," Dean corrected knowingly; his voice breathless as he continued to fight against the other demon's hold.

Crowley smiled. "I've got a fine ass."

Dean glared.

Benny ignored them; having only one focus – the door.

There was a beat of silence.

Then it happened.

The door's lock clicked as it was successfully turned back; the sound remarkably loud in the empty warehouse.

Crowley nodded his approval of Sam's handiwork before glancing again at Dean. "Ready or not, here he comes..." the demon sing-songed and then disappeared without further comment.

"And there he goes..." the lesser demon observed about Crowley's sudden departure, glancing around the warehouse as if he expected the King of Hell to be lurking in the rafters.

But Crowley was gone.

Dean snorted at the demon's typical exit; Crowley always thinking about himself first and others..._never_, especially when shit was about to hit the fan.

And although Crowley was confident his plan would turn out as it should, he couldn't risk being around if it didn't.

Dean sighed harshly – hating Crowley more than he ever had before – and then focused on Benny standing by the door.

The vampire winked.

The doorknob turned.

"This is the best part," the lesser demon quietly confided, directing his attention toward the backdoor of the warehouse like he was watching a movie.

"_No..._" Dean growled, straining against the force that continued to hold him against the wall. "Sam!"

"Shhh..." the lesser demon hissed, clearly irritated by Dean's outburst.

Dean didn't give a shit. "Sam!"

"Shhh..." the demon hissed again, keeping his focus on the door – not wanting to miss a single second of what was about to happen – but waving his hand at Dean to make sure the hunter didn't ruin the surprise.

Dean blinked as the muscles of his throat suddenly seized; feeling a brief wave of panic wash over him until he realized that he was still able to breathe...but not speak.

_Fan...fucking...tastic._

Dean clenched his jaw in silent frustration, continuing to struggle from where he was pinned against the cold, hard wall...and feeling his heart hammer in his chest as Sam appeared in the doorway; the kid's left hand on the doorknob while his right arm hung behind him as he cautiously entered the warehouse.

"Hi-ya, Sammy..." Benny greeted, his tone politely menacing.

And that was the only warning Sam got before the vampire swung his machete.

But Sam was ready, easily ducking the attack and then rounding on Benny with a weapon of his own – an equally long and sharp blade held in his right hand.

Benny quickly sidestepped the assault and chuckled as Sam attempted to point the tip of the knife directly at his throat; his quiet laugh the begrudgingly impressed sound of one opponent appreciating the skills of another.

From across the warehouse, the lesser demon gasped his surprise at the unexpected turn of events while Dean twitched a smile.

Because _this_ was the kid he had raised; the kind of kid who carried a machete with the same ease as most people carried a pocketknife.

And though Dean had no idea how Sam had known he was walking into a trap, he was incredibly thankful – and indescribably_ proud_ – that his brother had figured it out.

At least one Winchester had his head in the game and not up his ass these days.

Dean's smile faded at that self-admonishing thought; still pissed that he had allowed himself to end up in such a colossal cluster fuck.

But none of that mattered now.

What mattered was getting out of this warehouse alive.

Then he and Sam would figure out the rest later.

_Together._

Dean felt a twinge of hope as Sam glanced in his direction; his brother's gaze visually triaging before flickering between him and the demon who held him against the wall; the kid instantly realizing Dean's situation and working out a solution.

"Well, well..." Benny drawled attracting Sam's attention. "The plot thickens."

And Benny vaguely wondered if this was part of the plan.

If Crowley had somehow set him up.

It wasn't a farfetched suspicion.

Benny narrowed his eyes as he and Sam began to circle each other; both hunter and vampire calculating their next move. "How did you know?"

Because Crowley had sounded _just like _Dean when he had called Sam; there was no way Sam had been able to tell the difference.

So how did Sam know to not only come to the warehouse armed but to come in swinging?

"How did you know?" Benny repeated, feeling the familiar creep of pissed paranoia.

Sam made no response; having no interest in explaining himself to a vampire...especially _this_ vampire.

Benny shrugged as if Sam's silence didn't bother him. "Fine," he allowed. "Take your secret to the grave."

And with that, the vampire swung his machete once more; growling his annoyance when the blade sliced air instead of flesh, having forgotten how quickly Sam could move for a guy his size.

Sam shifted positions and ghosted a smile; his gaze once again flickering to Dean and then to the demon who held him before refocusing on Benny.

"In nómine Pátris..." Sam began, reciting perfect Latin as he continued to circle the vampire.

Benny arched an eyebrow at the unexpected exorcism. "Sorry, chief. Doesn't work on me..." he reminded with a smug chuckle, holding his knife at the height of Sam's neck.

Sam shook his head. "It's not meant for you," he coolly informed and then glanced across the warehouse; making eye contact with Dean as he continued in fluent Latin; the words strung together as they were spoken quick enough to accomplish the job before the target realized.

But Dean knew what his brother was doing and blinked his understanding of Sam's plan; feeling the invisible power over him gradually loosen as the demon began to cough black puffs of smoke.

"N-no..." the demon choked, clutching at his throat and doubling over even as he tried to resist the effect of Sam's words and maintain his hold over Dean.

But it was useless.

Within seconds, the demon's hold had completely released as he dropped to his knees under the crippling tide of Sam's words.

Dean did likewise, sliding down the warehouse wall and dropping to the dusty floor; landing in a heap and instantly grabbing the demon-killing knife tucked in his boot.

Sam smiled at their small victory, exchanging glances with Dean and knowing his brother would handle the rest as Dean lunged forward.

The demon barely had time to glance up before Dean was on him; yanking back his head by a handful of hair and plunging the demon-killing knife deep within his chest.

As usual with that particular weapon, the effect was instant – a brief flicker of light within the demon's body, followed by slight twitching in the final seconds of its pathetic existence.

Dean smiled wickedly as he held his position and watched the demon die before yanking the knife away and letting the demon's body drop to the floor; his smile lingering as he stared down at the lifeless meat suit; unnervingly excited to have killed something.

Sam frowned as he watched his brother from across the warehouse – always a bit disturbed when Dean looked _that_ intense – and then refocused on Benny in time to see the vampire's machete once again swing in his direction.

Sam twisted his body sharply to the right to avoid the fatal attack and then hissed as the blade intended for his neck sliced through his bicep instead; the blade easily tearing through his shirt and coat before sinking into his soft flesh beneath.

Dean's attention instantly snapped to Sam, recognizing the sound of his brother in pain. "Sammy!" he yelled in reaction to seeing Sam's blood flow freely between the kid's fingers from where Sam had covered the wound with his opposite hand.

Benny chuckled. "The first cut is the deepest..." he quipped and swung the blood-stained blade once more; taking advantage of Sam's momentary stunned stillness to move in for the kill.

"Sam!" Dean called in warning, wincing as his arm began to burn; his muscles suddenly seizing in pain.

It was a familiar feeling.

Dean glared as he cradled his arm against his stomach, knowing exactly who was causing the pain...and the distraction – _Benny_.

Dean shook his head. "No..." he growled, clenching his jaw as he battled through the increasing pain. "Sam!" he called again, already in motion to cross the warehouse.

Sam startled at the urgency in Dean's voice and quickly released his hold on his injured arm; wiping his bloody palm across his jeans before transferring his weapon to his left hand; thankful – not for the first time – that John had always insisted that his sons could fight ambidextrously.

Not that the skill seemed to matter now as Benny effortlessly knocked the machete from Sam's grasp and then delivered a hard kick to the young hunter's chest.

Sam's breath was instantly gone as he fell backwards; landing jarringly hard on the concrete floor as his knife slid away from his reach.

Benny quirked a satisfied smile, feeling the rush of anticipated victory.

Sam blinked up at him; his expression panicked as he gasped for air while frantically pushing himself back across the floor in an attempt to stall Benny's attack.

Benny's smile widened. "I win," he announced smugly as he continued to advance on Sam, angling his arms in preparation to swing his machete and kill Dean's brother.

"No," Dean countered sharply, now standing within inches of the vampire.

Benny turned at the sound of Dean's voice; barely having time to realize what was happening.

"_We_ win," Dean coldly corrected and swung the machete Sam had been holding a few seconds before; a shower of blood spraying forth as the blade sliced through flesh and bone.

Benny's head dropped to the floor with a wet thud as his body did the same; the head rolling a few bloody inches before stopping; the vampire's sightless eyes still open as they stared at the ceiling of the warehouse.

Dean exhaled harshly; his gaze lingering on Benny just long enough to confirm the vampire was indeed dead before turning to his injured brother still sprawled on the floor.

"Sammy..." Dean began, stepping forward to help the kid up. "Are you..." He paused, his voice fading as he winced. "_Fuck..._"

Sam frowned at Dean's outburst; the expression deepening when his brother closed his eyes in obvious agony. "Dean?"

Dean opened his eyes and grunted as crippling pain once again flared in his arm; the burning sensation only intensified as his muscles cramped.

"_Shit..._" Dean hissed and reluctantly dropped the blood-covered machete to grab his aching arm.

"Dean..." Sam called, concern in his voice as he covered his bleeding wound and sluggishly pushed himself to his feet; the pain in his own injured arm slowing his movements.

Dean glanced at Sam but said nothing as he rolled up the sleeve of his shirt.

Sam watched curiously, wondering if he had missed something. "What's wrong?" he asked and then scowled at the red, welted brand on his brother's arm. "What the hell is that?"

"Benny's mark," Dean explained bluntly and then shook his head when Sam opened his mouth to ask his inevitable questions. "I'll tell you later," he promised and then clenched his jaw as a fresh wave of pain burned through his arm; his skin actually sizzling briefly as the flesh was renewed.

In the next instant, the pain was gone...and so was the brand.

Benny's mark burned away in the wake of the vampire's death.

Both brothers blinked at the supernatural transformation and then looked at each other.

"Huh..." Dean mused, not sure how else to react.

"'Huh...'" Sam echoed and shook his head disapprovingly. "That's all you have to say?"

Dean shrugged, carefully rubbing his arm; feeling smooth skin and no pain. "I'll say more later," he told his brother, incredibly relieved to be free of his link to Benny. "But right now..."

Sam stubbornly sidestepped Dean's grasp. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, you look fine..." Dean replied dryly, frowning at the amount of blood saturating the sleeve of Sam's coat and still steadily seeping through his brother's fingers. "C'mere..." he called, once again reaching for the kid standing beside him.

Sam sighed but stepped closer to Dean, easing his hand away from the wound as his brother nudged his bloody fingers aside.

Dean narrowed his eyes, carefully moving the torn fabric of Sam's coat and shirt sleeve to better see the damaged flesh beneath.

Sam scrunched his face as his brother gently pressed against his skin.

"Definitely gonna need stiches," Dean announced and shook his head, feeling fresh rage swell in his chest at the vampire who had hurt his brother...but thankful it hadn't been worse.

Because Benny had wanted Sam's head...and had almost gotten it.

Dean swallowed at the thought and eased his hand away from Sam's wound; briefly wiping his blood-stained fingers across his jeans before focusing on his brother.

"Everything else good?" Dean asked, visually checking the kid for any unseen injuries.

Sam nodded. "I think so."

Dean returned the nod. "Good." He paused, glancing around the warehouse at the bodies of the demon and the vampire on the floor. "What d'ya say we get the hell outta here before Crowley comes back?"

Because while Dean wanted the King of Hell dead, he wasn't interested in killing the sonuvabitch tonight.

He had a little brother to patch up.

"Yeah," Sam agreed heartily, once again covering his wounded bicep with his opposite hand.

"Alright," Dean returned, crossing to collect the demon-killing knife and his machete before motioning for Sam. "Let's go..."

Sam nodded and crossed to Dean.

"Wait..." Dean warned, lightly holding his hand against Sam's chest as he cracked the backdoor of the warehouse and glanced out, checking for any potential dangers lurking in the shadows.

Satisfied that they wouldn't be ambushed, Dean nodded and released his hold on his brother; nonverbally giving his permission for Sam to continue on his way.

Sam quirked a smile – having forgotten how good it felt to have a big brother around – and walked past Dean out the door.

Dean glanced around the warehouse one last time before following; leaving behind the bodies of the demon and vampire and not caring who found them since he and Sam would be long gone by then.

"So..." Sam began as Dean walked beside him. "My car or yours?"

Dean snorted, because he could just imagine what piece of crap Sam had stolen from the motel's parking lot to drive to the warehouse. "_Our_ car," he answered and smiled at his brother.

Sam smiled as well, hearing the hidden message loud and clear.

They walked in companionable silence.

Dean glanced at his brother. "How _did_ you know?" he asked curiously, still wondering how Sam knew he was walking into a trap at the warehouse.

Sam shrugged. "He didn't say my name right."

Dean frowned. "What?"

"He didn't say my name right," Sam repeated before explaining further. "There's a certain way you say 'Sammy'. And Crowley sucks at trying to copy it."

Dean chuckled at Sam's critique even as a mixture of emotions swelled in his chest for the kid walking beside him; touched more than he would admit that Sam knew it wasn't him calling just by that simple detail.

"So, that's it?" Dean asked, visually scanning the alley beside the warehouse as they walked; making sure to keep Sam slightly behind him in case there was trouble up ahead. "That's how you knew it was a trap?"

"That's how I knew _something _was going on..." Sam replied and then cut his eyes at Dean, barely hiding a smile. "Do you think it's 'cause I'm so awesome?"

Dean snorted at the unexpected remark, remembering a time when he used to ask Sam the same question. "Nah," he responded and shook his head. "It's 'cause _I'm_ so awesome." He paused and smiled. "'Bout time some of it rubbed off on you, though..."

Sam rolled his eyes.

Dean chuckled quietly.

They continued to walk.

"How's the arm?" Dean checked, glancing at his brother's blood-stained hand still covering his wound.

"Fine," Sam replied, even as his pinched expression said otherwise.

"Mmhmm..." Dean hummed knowingly but let the issue drop...for now.

But once they arrived back at the motel, it would be stitches and pain meds for little Sammy.

Dean twitched a smile; always amused when he caught himself thinking of the gigantic kid walking beside him as "little Sammy".

But little brothers would always be little brothers no matter how big they got.

Dean nodded his agreement.

"How's _your_ arm?" Sam countered and cut his eyes at Dean.

Dean shrugged at the leading question, not interested in getting into that issue until later. "Fine."

Sam scowled. "Mmhmm..." he returned but also let the issue drop.

They continued walking; both brothers visibly relaxing when the Impala finally came into view a few feet ahead, patiently waiting beneath a streetlight.

Dean sighed, always relieved when he saw the Chevy just as he had left her. "There's my girl..."

Sam snorted good-naturedly but said nothing as they approached the Impala.

Their movements perfectly matched and in-sync as they both opened their doors and slid into their respective places on the bench seat.

"We're gonna talk about this, Dean," Sam informed, glancing at his brother as Dean tucked the demon-killing knife back in his boot and then stashed the machete beneath the seat.

Dean nodded. "I know," he responded, cranking the Impala's engine.

Because he _wanted_ to talk about it; knew they both needed to lay their proverbial cards on the table about their year apart...just not right now.

Maybe after they were back at the motel; after Sam was stitched and settled...but not now.

"You know that talk includes _your_ year, too..." Dean pointed out, staring at his brother intently. "If I gotta spill my shit, then so do you."

Sam smiled softly at Dean's description of their impending conversation and nodded. "Yeah," he agreed, his expression softening as though he had already forgiven whatever Dean had to confess.

Dean nodded. "Alright..." he replied and shifted the Impala's gears, checking his rearview before easing the Chevy away from the warehouse and back toward the motel.

Sam sighed and leaned his head against the passenger window; closing his eyes as he continued to hold his hand over his bleeding wound.

They rode in silence.

Several miles passed with Dean glancing at his brother every few seconds; knowing Sam was mostly fine but unable to stop himself from checking on the kid's condition.

Because it seemed some things never changed.

"I'm still the same guy, Dean..." Sam had assured his brother at Rufus's cabin.

And it seemed the kid was right.

Sam was still the same guy who had an endless capacity to forgive; who watched his brother's back no matter what; who loved Dean as much as Dean loved him.

And although Dean had sharply informed Sam at the cabin that he was _not_ the same guy, it seemed he was wrong.

Because although Purgatory had inarguably transformed him, Dean was still the same guy who worried about his kid brother; who took care of Sam when he needed it; who protected him and loved him more than anything else.

While their year apart had changed them, they were still brothers...and they were still the same in the ways that truly mattered.

More importantly, they were _together._

And Dean knew there was nothing that could stop them as long as they stayed that way.

* * *

_**FIN**_


End file.
